“We can not talk of it to-day,” continued John; “we must be alone. In my letter to you to-day I asked you to fix some time and name place, on Tuesday, as I thought you would only get my letter to-morrow morning. But now as you, have got it to-day, can we meet to-morrow?”
“Yes,” half-whispered May; John was still holding her hand, still looking in her face, and May’s heart was beating very fast.
“I have heard something about you to-day, May,” presently said John; “something that made me very angry—only I did not believe it.”
“And what have you heard?” asked May, raising her beautiful eyes to his.
“That you are flirting—yes, that was the horrid word—flirting with that brute, young Henderson.”
May’s fair face flushed angrily.
“What a dreadful untruth!” she cried, indignantly; “I have been so miserable about this; that woman my father has married has taken it into her head that I should marry this dreadful man, and she asks him to the house, and the other day sent him into the garden after me, and he asked me to marry him, and I told him I never should.”
“I should think not,” said John Temple, quietly.
“I detest him, and can not bear to be in the room with him,” went on May; “and Mrs. Churchill has been so rude to me about it, and makes my home and my life quite miserable. My father seems to believe everything she says, and when I got angry and said she was no mother of mine, he took her part, and said if I did not choose to treat her with proper respect, that I should not remain in his house.”
John smiled.